*** The following chapter, as well as the next, includes dialogue taken directly from HOTD, all rights belong to HBO***
While Visaera tried to paste a reassuring smile on her face, her white knuckles as she clutched Jace's hand surely conveyed her nervousness. When the doors opened, her family entered the throne room together, their heads held high, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing their doubt. And they all had doubts, though they hid them well.
She could feel eyes on her and she glanced across the room, finding Aegon and Aemon both watching her. Overwhelmed with all that was happening, she merely stared back warily. Rhaenyra placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but Visaera could feel it trembling.
"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds," Otto began, his voice echoing through the throne room, "we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters. The Crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."
"My Queen. My Lord Hand." Vaemond greeted them both with small bows. "The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name." Visaera snorted and all eyes fell on her, Vaemond falling silent.
"I didn't know we came here for a history lesson, Lord Vaemond," she offered with a mean smirk. Across the room, someone, probably Aegon, snorted and then coughed, trying to hide their laughter. Vaemond's lip curled back into a snarl and then he turned his attention back to Otto. "I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."
"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." Rhaenyra interjected, sounding almost bored with the proceeding, conveying the utter ridiculousness of the entire thing. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition."
"You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra." Alicent interrupted, "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."
"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" Vaemond finally asked, turning to speak directly to Rhaenyra, "I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours. My Queen, my lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor... the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."
"Thank you, Ser Vaemond." Otto replied. "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Jacaerys Velaryon." Her mother stepped forward and sighed, wringing her hands together. She didn't look it on the outside, but Visaera could tell she was anxious.
"If I am to grace this farce with some answer," Rhaenyra began, "I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very..."
"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!" Visaera nearly sobbed with relief, her legs threatening to give out.
The entire court turned to watch Viserys struggle his way through the throne room, leaning on his cane for support. More than anything, Visaera was in awe. Her grandfather had been ill for years, his condition worsening over the last few months, and yet, there he was...
"I will sit the throne today," he informed Otto.
"Your Grace." A surge of satisfaction coursed through her when she saw the resignation on the Hand's face. Nothing pleased her more than seeing him humbled. The King continued to struggle his way up to the throne, insisting he was fine. When the crown slipped from his head and clattered on the floor, it was Daemon who stepped forward and supported his brother, replacing the crown when the King was seated. It was a rare sight, to see such a caring act from Daemon, Visaera was nearly moved to tears.
"I must... admit... my confusion." Viserys began, glancing at all the faces around the room. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession." At his words, Visaera grew smug, sneering across the room at Alicent and Otto. "The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."
"Indeed, Your Grace," her grandmother offered, stepping forward to address the king. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Jacaerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son Jace to Lord Corlys's granddaughter, Baela. A proposal to which I heartily agree." The court broke into whispers and Visaera glanced at her sister, who smiled. She had no idea her mother had extended such an offer to Rhaenys. What else didn't she know?
"Well..." The King leaned back on the throne, appeased by the agreement. "The matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides." A wide grin broke out on her face and she gave Jace's hand a squeeze. Across the room, the Queen and Hand were silent, but their dismay was written all over their faces. Aegon, at least, looked relieved by the declaration, even if his brother did not.
"You break law..." When Vaemond spoke again, the attention in the room returned to him, the ire in his voice unmistakable, "and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. And now you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon."
"Corlys Velaryon, our grandfather named Jacaerys heir to Driftmark, Lord Vaemond." Shaking from the anger his words provoked, Visaera stepped forward, her eyes burning into his, effectively shielding all of her brothers from his glare, "As my grandmother has already told you, he never wavered, not once. Do not allow your own envy to speak for you." It was a warning, one she knew he wouldn't heed, in fact, she hoped he didn't.
"Envy? I have no envy, Visaera," The way he spat her name made her want to launch herself at him. "Only disappointment, that my nephew would allow the blood of our house to return to the sea and allow this child to claim the Driftwood Throne. I will not allow it!" he snarled, turning to the king.
"Allow it"? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond." Viserys chided, leaning forward in his chair; his voice filled with warning.
"That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine."
"Go to your chambers," Rhaenyra commanded the children. "You have said enough!" she added, turning to Vaemond.
"Jacaerys is my true-born grandson." The king replied, "And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark."
"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And Gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this..." Vaemond's face tensed as he fought to choke down the word he desperately wanted to use.
"Say it." Daemon finally urged, his voice a deadly whisper.
"Her children... are bastards!" he shouted. Half the room cringed at his words and the rest broke into frenzied whispers. "And she... is... a whοre." No warning was needed, Visaera already knew what was coming before the King leaned forward and drew his dagger, and she stepped out of the way, her eyes wide in anticipation.
"I... will have your tongue for that." Viserys ground out, struggling to rise from the throne. It happened in less than a blink of an eye. Daemon had removed Dark Sister from his sheath before anyone but his eldest had noticed. There was a thick, slicing noise and then the top half of Vaemond's head separated from the bottom and his body was falling to the floor with a thud, a pool of blood quickly covering the stone.
"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said easily, as though he hadn't just killed someone in the center of the throne room. Visaera giggled softly at his comment, covering her mouth.
"Disarm him!" Otto shouted, guards beginning to move.
"No need." Daemon insisted, wiping the blade and putting his sword away. Visaera was still laughing, the sight of Vaemond's tongue sticking out from his jaw seemed completely absurd. One hand was clapped over her mouth, but she couldn't stop, even when eyes turned to stare at her. Daemon raised an eyebrow and she sucked in a breath, trying desperately to swallow the next fit of giggles, but she couldn't.
"You must forgive my daughter, she isn't used to the sight of so much blood," Rhaenyra offered. Anyone who knew her could easily see it was a lie, nevertheless, the King softened.
"Of course. You are excused, little doe. Go have some water, yes?" Visaera nodded, her eyes watering as she hurried from the room, still in a fit of hysterics.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Instead of gathering her wits in the corridor, the thought of her father slicing Vaemond open brought her another bout of laughter. Even more amusing was the fact that he hadn't been wrong. It was bizarre, but the whole scene brought Visaera a ridiculous amount of happiness.
"Vis?" No... Not him. Anyone but him... "Are you alright?" Even as she wondered how Aegon had managed to leave the proceeding, she continued to giggle. "Hey, Visaera? Fuck, you're shaking..." he murmured as he gripped her around the shoulders, trying to look into her eyes, to make sure she was truly alright. She wasn't... She was a moment away from falling apart, only she hadn't realized it until he had put his arms around her. Instead of another bout of laughter, a sob ripped its way from her throat.
"I've got you, Vis," he assured her, trying to help her move.
"No..." she murmured, trying to bat his hand away. "No... Don't touch me!" she finally screamed, scarcely realizing she would draw attention to them. Vaemond's corpse lying on the floor of the throne room was no longer amusing. She felt like her chest was caving in and she was unable to catch her breath. The idea she thought funny a moment ago made her stomach twist and she thought she was going to vomit.
"Visaera, look at me!" He gripped her face and shook her, jarring her until her eyes finally focused on his. "You need to breathe, Visaera." Finally registering what he was saying, Visaera sucked in a desperate breath, her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, and then she crumbled, his arms barely catching her before her knees hit the floor.
When the throne room finally began to empty, only moments later, Aegon was holding Visaera in his lap, lost as to what to do with her. When she finally took in a breath, she had let out a sob and then fell into his arms, looking like she was moments from fainting. Even as Daemon made his way into the corridor, Visaera didn't move. Her eyes had gone glassy and she was murmuring to herself. For a moment, she reminded him of Helaena, a disturbing thought.
"Move, boy!" Daemon commanded and Aegon released her. In one smooth motion, the Rogue Prince scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. "Are you alright?" Instead of answering, she buried her face in his chest and inhaled his scent, immediately feeling at ease.
For a long time, neither of them said a word. Only when he finally set Visaera in her mother's bed did she finally speak, "I embarrassed you..." The words were said before she had a chance to think about them and the realization made her feel ashamed.
"No, you concerned me, Visaera," he corrected, sitting down on the bed beside her. "What happened?" She shook her head.
"I honestly don't know... One minute he had his head; the next he didn't. For a moment, it was the funniest thing I've ever seen." She swallowed the lump in her throat as the image of Vaemond resurfaced. "And then it wasn't..."
"Perhaps your mother was right, perhaps the blood." Again, she shook her head.
"We just had a tourney for Aemond's nameday. The blood didn't bother me then..." Daemon chuckled and then appraised her for a moment.
"When is the last time you had a full meal and an entire night's sleep?" She shrugged and Daemon sighed. "You haven't been taking care of yourself, my girl. No wonder you can't hold it together for a mere decapitation." Mere decapitation. The joke made her laugh and then she was laying her head against his chest.
"I've missed you, father,"
"I've missed you too, my love." Then he helped her up and assisted her back to her own rooms, insisting she eat and then rest until supper. Alarya set a plate of food out, but Visaera didn't eat. She curled up in her bed and fell asleep in mere minutes...